


By your side

by SysOpRunner



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28164381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SysOpRunner/pseuds/SysOpRunner
Summary: A story of how Bokuto and Akaashi became teammates, friends, and eventually more...
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rating and tags may change in future chapters...  
> \---  
> I decided to leave this fic rated as is. However, there will be a part two that may rate different...

Akaashi liked games and puzzles. He liked books. He liked video games too but he didn’t own any. His father didn't approve of video games. But whenever a friend would let him play on their console, he was thrilled to discover that he could be really good at it. He had sharp reflexes, good coordination, and the ability to quickly assess a situation as his fingers flew over the controller, adapting and learning at lightning speed. Even though he was fit, he was not particularly fond of sports but his father had insisted that he join a club in high school. It would keep him in shape and prepare him for an active life. Later on, it would look good on his resume. Akaashi wanted to join the chess club but his father had vetoed that idea. It was to be sports.

His father was a gruff military man, always preoccupied with his work. Quietly ambitious, he was determined to navigate his career up through the complex ladder of military administration, as high as he could go. He firmly believed in the holy trinity of hierarchy, routine, and respect, and they were the cornerstone of both his professional and personal life. 

Aakaashi’s mother died when he was 7 years old. He had been old enough to remember her, but young enough to remember her in that particular childhood way, as more a feeling than a person. A soft kiss on his forehead as he woke. The sound of her wedding ring clinking on the glass as she washed dishes. Her eyes looking encouragingly at him over the pieces on a chessboard. 

He had been old enough to remember the few harried months when he started overhearing words he didn’t understand, whispered in conversations he wasn’t supposed to witness. When his mother started spending her days in bed rather than busying herself around the house. When he was taken to visit her in the hospital but everything smelled strange and his mom did not look like herself anymore. When his father held his hand very tight and told him to be brave but he didn't understand why...

All through the last months of his wife’s life, Akaashi-san had held up that gruff, supportive front, all along knowing what was coming. He was practical, he was pragmatic and he loved Michiko very much. He was at the hospital almost every day despite his demanding schedule. He held her hand and talked to her even when the pain medication meant she was unconscious most of the time. And even though he knew all along this moment would come, when it finally happened, he sat by Michiko’s bed and cried. He cried for all the things they’ve been, for Michiko’s beauty, for her brilliant mind and her loving hands. He cried for all the things they would never be, the retirement they had dreamed of, the little house with a garden where he had hoped they would grow old together. He cried for the things she would not see: their son growing up, graduating, perhaps following his father’s footsteps. His upcoming promotion. Their grandchildren. He cried for all the pain she went through. He cried for himself a little too… He felt empty and adrift without her. But eventually, he dried his eyes and went home and never cried again.

When he told Akaashi that his mother was gone, he expected him to cry too. He was prepared for that. But the little boy just sat and kept his eyes on the floor and did not cry. He sat there and waited for the words he heard to make sense. He waited because he already knew his mom was gone. She was in the hospital. She was sick. He waited to hear something that would make sense. But no other words were coming so he just sat and did not cry. His father thought him very brave and told him so. He told him he was proud of what a strong boy he was.

Unlike his father, who had known the outcome from the start, Akaashi only realized little by little that things had changed irrevocably. Over the coming days, as a few distant relatives came for the funeral, he guessed, more than understood, that his mother was _gone_ in a terrifyingly permanent way. The thought was too big to be contained by his little child’s heart and it threatened to spill over in the way it should have, through tears that would be shed on a caring shoulder while he was held tight and rocked and told that not _everything_ had changed, that mom was gone but that love remained… But his father had told him that he was proud of him for not crying so Akaashi held back his tears and tried very hard to make his father proud. It took him days and weeks to map out all the ways his mother was no longer there. And sometimes, he would wake in the middle of the night with a heaviness in his chest and his cheeks streaked with tears he didn’t realize he’d shed...

But all that was years behind them now. Over time, Akaashi had stopped crying in his sleep. He’d taken up all the challenges his father set him and always strived to make him proud. He learned to look after their home. He learned to cook. A few easy things at first, reheating ready-made meals and then, following online tutorials, more complex dishes. He was calm, reliable, and independent. He was exactly what his father wanted him to be. 

His father had loved his mother very much, and his gruff demeanor was mostly just a front that Michiko loved to play along with. They always were a good team, a partnership. But when she died, the partnership shattered and he did not have the slightest idea of how to talk to his son. It's not that he was unloving, it's just that he often mistook discipline for attention, and his gruff front became the only side ever shown to anyone. But Akaashi loved his father, just as his father loved him: their love was quiet, undemonstrative, and, to the outside eye, aloof and cool. 

And that’s why, on a Tuesday evening after classes, Akaashi was standing in the gym, waiting for the volleyball tryouts to begin. Having insisted on sports, his father had left him the choice of discipline. But Akaashi found himself drawn to team sports rather than individual ones. He liked the idea of teasing apart the dynamics that made a group into a team and finding his place within that, a place that would allow him to be useful, to influence the direction, to contribute to the results. Fukurodani academy was known for its volleyball team. They were a fixture at the Nationals, more often than not making their way onto the top of the podium. It was no surprise then that the tryouts were well attended. Akaashi was standing with a group of hopefuls, carefully positioning himself to the front of the group but not as to be the center of attention. If he were joining the club, he’d make damn sure he’d be on the starting lineup and not a benchwarmer. He was not particularly fond of volleyball or sports in general but he was athletic enough to have excelled in phys-ed classes and was reasonably sure he could do well. 

In the meantime, he kept his eyes on the team practice. He watched the individual players, their moves, the way they communicated. He tried to give his attention to all the players on the court but he found his eyes drawn time and again to one person in particular. In all honesty, he was impossible to ignore: Ridiculous spiky hair, a loud booming voice constantly calling out to his teammates. The stripe on his jersey identified him as team captain. He watched as a boy with short blonde hair sent the ball in a neat arc close to the net and the captain ran up to jump and send it to the floor on the other side. He watched as intensity lit up his eyes, his body wound up with energy, and he literally flew, one hand extended in front of him to where the ball seemed to be waiting for him at the peak of his jump. In a blur of motion the hand connected and the ball flew, almost too fast for eyes to follow, and smacked the floor with a resounding whomp. 

Team practice was finally over and the potential recruits were called onto the court. The captain took position in front and introduced himself. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou, team captain. Welcome to the tryouts.” He then quickly introduced other team members and told them they were only looking for two, maybe three players to fill out the roster.

They were put through a rotation alongside older team members, trying in turn to serve, pass, receive, and attack. Akaashi did a very solid serve sending the ball neatly over the net. On the next rotation, he received the ball somewhat less successfully. When he found himself in front of the net, he tried to jump and block as he had seen some of the players do, but he wasn't particularly tall, and he honestly didn't expect the power behind the spike, so he let the ball slip between his hands, barely touching at all. Disappointment crossed his face but then a hand clapped forcefully on his back, sending him stumbling half a step forward. He turned to see the captain looking at him with a wide grin. “At least you tried to stop it! That’s the right attitude, keep it up!” 

A few moments later, the ball was flying again in his direction. He had the option of trying to send it over the net but he could see the players on the other side would immediately shut him out. No good. He looked at the player on his right. Another potential recruit, he stood with his hands down by his sides but his eyes were on the ball, and he had a clear shot across the net. Akaashi made a quick decision: he would try to send the ball to him just like the blonde player had done earlier for the captain. His eyes flew to the ball, to his target, to the ball again. He shifted his stance slightly, crouched down for a jump, and then tapped the ball into a pretty good approximation of the trajectory he had envisioned. He saw the ball rise to the apex of its trajectory before it would drop to the height where the other boy would be able to hit it easily. He didn't know his name so he couldn't call out to him although he really wanted to because if he were to take the shot he should be already jumping dammit! Akaashi’s eyes were boring a hole in the side of the other boy’s head, willing him to jump, when a streak of motion entered his field of vision just as he heard the whomp of a hand connecting with the ball followed almost immediately by the thump of the ball on the floor. The boy to whom he had sent the ball had not moved at all. Akaashi looked around, his eyes taking in Bokuto’s satisfied grin, as he now stood next to him, having taken the shot from the back of the court. “What’s your name?” he asked, large golden eyes shining with excitement and pride as he looked at him.

“Akaashi Keiji, first-year” Akaashi answered quickly. He jumped slightly as Bokuto threw an arm around his shoulders and yelled across the court, louder than necessary: “Hey, Daiki, hey! Did you see that?” The boy Akaashi had seen setting the ball to the captain nodded and gave them a thumbs-up. Bokuto slapped him on the back again before walking away and clapping his hands to keep the tryouts going, leaving Akaashi slightly baffled by the sheer physical intensity of the interaction. 

Akaashi changed out of his gym shoes and put them away neatly in his bag. He doubled back to fill his water bottle at the tap behind the gym. The tryouts were more tiring than he had expected. He hoped he’d done well enough but he wasn’t sure anymore. There were more experienced players hoping to make the team. Maybe he should have tried for something less ambitious? Well, he did his best and there was nothing more he could do. He turned to walk home, to his chores and his homework. As he was about to pass by the open doors of the gym, he saw the volleyball team sitting on the floor, discussing the tryouts. Without thinking, he stopped just outside the square of light spilling from the doors and then took a step back into the shadows. He heard the captain’s voice, as usual, several notches above the required volume level. “I want that dark-haired kid,” he announced. There was the sound of shuffling papers as another teammate looked through the club application forms to figure out which one the captain is talking about. 

“This one?” he heard a voice answer. “He’s a complete newbie, never played before. Are you sure?” 

“Yes. That’s the one. Did you see him set, Daiki?” he heard Bokuto answer. Akaashi risked a peek inside. The team was sitting in a circle, a stack of papers scattered in the middle. Bokuto sat cross-legged, apparently concentrating more on spinning a volleyball on his finger than on the selection process. 

“It could have been luck, you know,” he saw the blonde boy answer the captain. “A total fluke.” 

“No. He’s got good instincts. I can tell,” answered Bokuto, not looking away from the ball. “I want _him_. I want him on the team. And he’s going to play. It’s time you started training up a replacement Daiki, this is your last year and we need a good setter if we’re going to keep up our position as a top-tier school.” A confused chorus of voices answered the captain but he seemed unconcerned by their agitation. After a moment he added: “Fine, you guys pick a couple more options. Toshimi, you’re my Vice, you make the decision, OK? But I want my setter,” he added and tossed the ball high up to the ceiling before rolling on his back, springing to a standing position, and catching the ball neatly as it came down.

“Hey, _I’m_ your setter!” exclaimed Daiki with indignation, looking up at his captain. Bokuto smiled his wide grin and tossed the ball at Daiki. “You are, for now,” he answered, before turning on his heel and walking away.

\----

The next day, as Akaashi changed his shoes before leaving school, he found a piece of paper in his cubby. For an uncomfortable moment, he thought it was a confession letter. He got those a few times in middle school. He’d been told before that he was good-looking, that he had pretty eyes. These confessions always made him vaguely uncomfortable and he ignored them when they were left like this in his desk or his locker. When they happened in person, he always tried to be polite and kind but he simply wasn’t interested. But this was a new school. He hardly knew anybody. The school year had only begun. He unfolded the letter with shaking hands and sighed a relieved breath. It was a note from the volleyball club. He was invited to join. 

\----

Akaashi was waiting for Daiki outside the gym. The setter had promised to accompany him today after classes and help him choose a good pair of volleyball shoes. The older boy soon joined him, carrying a package in his hands. He tossed it to Akaashi and explained: “It’s your new uniform: warmups, match jersey and shorts, and a practice kit. You’ll be playing as number 5 by the way, hope you like it!”

Akaashi squeezed the package in his hands, feeling the give of fabric, the crinkle of cellophane packaging. “Thank you Daiki-san. I’m very grateful,” he replied. He put the package carefully away in his backpack and they turned to walk together to the gates when a loud call (of course it was loud, did he even _have_ a different setting?) made them stop. “Hey, hey, hey! Where are my setters heading to on this glorious afternoon?” Bokuto asked as he sauntered towards them.

“Daiki-san has agreed to help me choose new volleyball shoes,” explained Akaashi.

“Fabulous! Great idea! Where are you taking him? Not to the mall, I hope, you gotta go to the specialty store! It’s the best, I love going there! I’m coming with you!” and not waiting for an answer he threw an arm around each of their necks and led them to the bus stop. Akaashi had in fact been heading to the mall, thinking that the selection there would be perfectly adequate for his needs. He shot a look at Daiki, wondering if he was going to protest or explain to the captain that they did not need to go to the specialty store but Daiki just laughed and shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

The store was quite large and while Akaashi and Daiki made their way to the shoe section, Bokuto almost immediately got distracted and veered off to check out another part of the store. He returned a short while later twirling a volleyball in his hands. He listened in on the salesman explaining the different options to Akaashi, pointed out (loudly) his favorite models, and drifted off again. He met them at the registers again, his broad hands spinning and twirling the ball. Akaashi paid for his shoes and the kneepads Daiki had suggested he get while Bokuto bought the volleyball. 

“Why are you buying another one?” asked Daiki, disbelieving. “Don't you already have half a dozen of those at home?”

“This one is a gift for my new setter,” Bokuto replied, tossing the ball to Akaashi.

Despite his surprise and despite having his hands full with his purchases, Akaashi caught the ball neatly. He blinked in surprise at Bokuto. Uncharacteristically, the captain was looking somewhat shy as he waited for Akaashi’s reaction, his honey-golden eyes looking anxiously and a hand rubbing the back of his neck. Akaashi bowed slightly and said, “Thank you Bokuto-san.” He didn't know what to make of this unexpected gift.

As they made their way onto the busy street, Daiki waved them goodbye and said he had to hurry home. Akaashi was about to do the same when Bokuto threw his arm around his shoulders (again) and insisted they got something to eat together. Akaashi cringed internally at the damage this afternoon was doing to his wallet but agreed. After all, this was his captain asking. He followed Bokuto to a noodle place located just down the street. As they sat waiting for their food, Akaashi thanked Bokuto again for the volleyball. This gift still stumped him, but Bokuto explained. “I’m guessing you don't have one at home so I thought I’d get you one,” his voice was still unusually hesitant. “A setter needs to have fine control of the ball. Basically, unless you’re sleeping, eating, or studying, you should have one of these in your hands at all times. You need to get used to the feel of the ball: toss it, bounce it, spin it, whatever. It has to become part of you,” he explained. The gift was making more sense.

They ate and Bokuto regaled him with stories of games he played, games he watched and games he hoped to play one day, in no particular order. As a matter of fact, Akaashi wasn't certain which of the stories were real events and which were just Bokuto’s musings. He ate and listened and watched. The captain was like no one he’d ever met before: Energetic to the point of distraction. Loud. Excited. A bit of a child. Fascinating… The way he told it, there was no better feeling in the world than a perfectly timed, well-executed spike. There was such unbridled joy in his eyes, Akaashi couldn't help but feel swept up by it. Suddenly he really wanted to stand on the winner's court, alongside his captain. He wanted to feel that same joy, share that excitement. Unaware of his thoughts, Bokuto carried on, talking about the teams they were going to play against and boasting about being rated among the top-five spiker in the country. He really _was_ a bit of a child... 

When Akaashi finally made his way home, he was desperately behind on his homework and his chores. He quickly attended to the most urgent tasks, making sure he was ready for the next day. Then he sat down to his homework. When he finally put his books away, it was nearing midnight. His eyes were itching with sleepiness but there was one more thing he wanted to do. In his bedroom, he sat on the floor and laid out his new belongings in front of him. His new uniform, the jersey with gleaming gold and black accents, and a bold black 5 on the front. A pair of white and gray sneakers. Next to them, he laid his new kneepads. Then the ball, yellow and blue pattern swirling around it. The sight made him strangely excited. He ran his hands over the jersey. He picked up the ball and spun it slowly between his hands. A warm, unusual sensation spread through him and he tried to embrace this feeling: belonging to a group that had chosen him, where he had his place and his share of a common dream. A feeling of belonging. Unbidden, Bokuto’s voice rang in his ears: “I want him. I want my setter…”


	2. Chapter 2

Akaashi was spending part of every practice being coached one on one by Daiki. It seemed that Bokuto was dead serious about him being in the starting lineup as a setter as soon as possible.

Daiki was not upset by this. “I’ve played enough games to last me a lifetime,” he’d say when Akaashi asked him. “I’ve been to the Nationals twice already and frankly I’d like to see my legacy continued,” he added with a laugh. Daiki was pretty easy to get along with. He was confident and easygoing even though he loved to point out his years of experience to Akaashi. Everyone on the team seemed to like him.

“How come you’re not the captain?” Akaashi asked as they passed the ball back and forth during warmup one day. 

“I’m not much of a leader,” Daiki admitted easily. “I like playing but I’m not very good at inspiring others to follow me,” he added. 

Akaashi looked over his shoulder to where Bokuto was doing hand-stands with another second-year player. His shirt slipped up (down?) his torso, exposing obscenely toned abs. “And he is?” he asked dubiously, looking at the captain who just then lost his balance and crumpled into a heap, laughing uproariously. 

Daiki smiled fondly. “He is.” Seeing Akaashi’s raised eyebrow he added: “Oh, you’ll see. He’s a great captain,” and then added as an afterthought: “Well, most of the time,” he tossed the ball back to Akaashi before continuing. “Sometimes, when things don't go his way, he has a tendency to self-destruct and go into a funk. Then it’s our job to pull him out of it.” All this didn't seem very captain-like to Akaashi but he didn’t feel it was his place to comment. Fukurodani was obviously a strong team and this strange leadership seemed to be working for them so he was in no position to judge.

As it happened, Akaashi witnessed for himself one of his captain’s slumps just a few days later. As he entered the changing rooms before practice, he overheard Bokuto (and how could he not overhear him, the man was so loud!) bemoaning his poor results in yet another math test. When they made it onto the court, he could tell that Bokuto lacked his usual energy. He walked around and kept an eye on the other’s practice but engaged very little and did not even push for additional practice for his spikes. Akaashi was surprised to see how different practice felt without Bokuto’s loud cheers, almost as if the gym was emptier than usual. 

As the youngest and newest member of the team, Akaashi was often tasked with most of the cleanup after practice. He didn't mind it. He was thorough and organized and got things done quickly. He enjoyed leaving the gym and clubroom tidy for their next practice. Today, after he finished in the gym, he entered the clubroom to collect his bag and uniform. He was about to leave, his hand on the lightswitch when he noticed a foot sticking out from under the ancient desk that stood crammed into the corner. Intrigued and mildly alarmed, he slowly bent to look into the dim space. “Oh!” he said softly. It was hard to believe that Bokuto, who usually seemed to take up twice as much space as the average person, could fold himself into such a small nook. He sat there, hugging his knees and staring off into space. “Bokuto-san, are you okay?” he asked. He received no answer so he crouched down to be level with the captain and asked again: “Bokuto-san, look at me please,” when the ace slowly looked up at him, he saw that his eyes had an empty and dejected look. He didn't know Bokuto very well yet and this was definitely something new for him, seeing his captain in such a funk. He thought quickly what could have caused this mood and his mind went to the conversation he had overheard earlier. “Is this about the math test you failed?” he asked cautiously. Bokuto looked away and nodded slightly. Akaashi sat cross-legged on the floor and waited. He had a feeling Bokuto would tell him more. 

“If I fail the remedial exam next week I’ll be suspended from extracurriculars… I…. I can't... They don't understand… They all think that volleyball is something I do to keep busy while I finish high school. That's not how it is… I’m finishing high school because that's what I have to do to keep playing volleyball! That's what I _want_ to do!” Bokuto tilted his head back and knocked it against the hard metal of the desk. “I’m not dumb, you know,” he added quietly. “I’m loud and direct and I get distracted easily so people assume I’m not very bright. But I don’t want you to think I’m a knucklehead. Do you think I’m dumb, Akaashi?” he asked, his golden eyes gleaming at him from under the desk. 

“No, I don’t think that Bokuto-san,” Akaashi answered. “They would not let you be the team captain if your grades weren’t good enough. And besides, I can tell.” 

Bokuto’s eyes brightened at that. Akaashi was startled by the feeling of pride that spread through him at the sight of his captain regaining some of his spirits. He wanted to see that look more often. He wanted to be the reason for that look... “Bokuto-san, I was wondering… would you mind helping me practice? I would really like to try some of the things Daiki-san has shown me." 

To Akaashi's relief and satisfaction, Bokuto visibly perked up at the suggestion. He scrambled up from under the desk and grabbed Akaashi’s hand to pull him to his feet. "Yeah! Let’s go!” Without letting go of Akaashi’s wrist he led the way back to the gym. He wheeled a cart full of volleyballs into place and quickly explained how they were going to go about it. When Akaashi took position by the net, he sent him the first ball. Akaashi focused, calling back everything that Daiki had shown him, and sent the ball to where he thought it should be. His aim was pretty good by now and the ball’s trajectory was exactly as he’d envisioned it. And Bokuto was there, flying through the air like some kind of bird of prey, ready to strike. The ball landed on the opposite side of the net with a resounding ‘whomp’ and Bokuto gave him a smile. “Let’s try it again,” he said, “but this time you can aim even higher.” So Akaashi did. Set after set, ball after ball, he sent them to wherever Bokuto requested. They worked on timing, on aim, and Akaashi was surprised to see that after every jump the captain only seemed to have more energy. Bokuto was not doing this for an audience. He wasn't doing this because someone was keeping score. Each jump, each spike was done because it was like breathing to Bokuto. It was something he couldn't do without, something he _needed_ to do to stay alive. But it was more than that too: it brought him joy, it made him feel alive and complete. Akaashi watched his legs coil up with energy, muscles working before a jump. He watched him fly through the air, his whole face alight with joy. He could see that this moment, this perfect moment when trajectories matched, was nothing but pure joy to Bokuto. And that’s why he wouldn't stop. No matter how tired his arms were, no matter the time, no matter how much he was behind on his schedule, he’d be there to set for Bokuto just to see that look in his eyes. It was almost overwhelming, to know that he was able to make this happen, to bring this much joy to another person…

But eventually, Bokuto stopped. He put his hands on his hips and flashed Akaashi a bright and mischievous smile. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?” he asked as he pulled up his tee-shirt to wipe his face, in the process putting his abs on full display. Akaashi turned to take a drink from his water bottle to hide how much that had unsettled him. “It was a good practice Bokuto-san,” he answered after a moment.

Akaashi had a lot of practice at keeping his feelings under wraps, it was second nature. But on joining the volleyball club he told himself he’d have to be extra careful about where he let his eyes stray. He already knew that his preference was for boys, that’s why the giggly confessions and batting eyelashes made him so uncomfortable. But he valued his place on the team greatly and he didn't want to make things uncomfortable and compromise the team dynamic by stealing casual glances at his teammates. He had been mostly successful at this. It helped to think about them as his family, his older siblings. But moments like this, comments like this made it difficult, even though the captain was only joking. 

They left the gym together, walking down the street to the bus stop. Akaashi watched the renewed bounce in his captain’s step and decided to broach the subject that started it all. “So, now that we've established that you're not dumb, what's the problem with the math test?” he asked casually. He needed to make sure this problem was all sorted out as soon as possible. There was no way they were going to their first match with their captain on suspension. 

Bokuto didn't hesitate before replying. It seemed he was perfectly comfortable discussing this with Akaashi. “I couldn't study… My oldest sister is visiting at home with her brand new baby and he’s the cutest little thing and that makes me an uncle! Can you believe it Akaashi?!? I’m an _uncle_ !!” Bokuto explained in his usual chaotic way. “It’s just amazing but there are people at home _all the time_ , my other sister is spending every evening at home too and I just love baby-chan _so much_ but he makes it soooo hard to study, I’m distracted all the time and… Agh!” Bokuto ran both hands through his hair and tilted his head back in desperation. “I _can_ do it! I’ll lock myself in my room to study if I have to. Oh, wait, I can’t... baby-chan’s crib is in my room…” he deflated at that, slowing down and looking at his feet. 

“Would you like to come study with me?” asked Akaashi without thinking.

“What, at your place?” Bokuto turned to him. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes. I can’t help you study but I can promise you won't be distracted. Would that help?” Akaashi pressed on.

“Yeah! Akaashi, you’re the best! Can I come over tomorrow after class?” Bokuto was looking at him as if he was offering him the moon.

“Uh, sure. We can meet at the gate at the end of the day,” answered Akaashi, a little startled at what just happened but convinced this was the right way to go.

And that was how Akaashi discovered another one of Bokuto's moods. This one was a bit of a surprise but he should have guessed that even if he appeared to be 70% loud and 10% dejected, that still left plenty of room for something else… Also, it turned out that he _did_ have other volume settings and that when he wasn’t loud, his voice was warm and deep and really nice… They sat at the table with their books and some tea and this time it was Akaashi getting distracted. He couldn't stop looking at Bokuto's hands, those broad strong hands he only ever saw on a volleyball or making a fist in celebration or slapping someone on the back. Now he watched as he gently twirled a pen, traced a finger along the page of his book as he read, ran a hand through his hair. He was thinking he'd like that finger tracing along his jaw instead… that he'd like to be the one running fingers through that ridiculous hair because it looked so thick and dense and probably softer than he thought… He snapped his eyes back to his work but his thoughts kept wandering. He listened to Bokuto scribbling away, humming slightly to himself. He was working steadily through his notes and if Akaashi still had doubts, here was all the proof he’d ever needed. But he already knew that the captain wasn’t dumb. In fact, he never thought he was. He thought he was annoying and handsy and unnecessary physical but not dumb. And on a day like this, when he'd chill out and quiet down, his intelligence and his perceptive nature were shining through. At least until his mouth ran away with him or his impulsive nature made him say or do something stupid.

They’ve been working steadily for a while when a loud rumble startled Akaashi. “Are you hungry?” he asked, realizing it came from Bokuto.

‘Desperately! What gave it away?” Bokuto answered, smiling an easy smile.

“Just my intuition, Bokuto-san,” answered Akaashi with a smile of his own. He didn’t notice how Bokuto’s eyes widened at that sight. Akaashi didn't realize how rarely he smiled and he had no idea of the change a real smile brought to his face.

“Do you want to go out and get something?” asked Bokuto, quickly reverting to his usual demeanor. 

“I've got some stuff here. We could eat in. I've made onigiri, would you like some?” asked Akaashi. 

“Yeah, sure,” agreed Bokuto. He would have agreed to anything Akaashi proposed at this point but if he had onigiri then Bokuto was on board. 

They cleared their books away and Akaashi brought the food and some drinks. Bokuto had discarded his jacket some time ago and lounged around with his shirtsleeves rolled up and his tie in a desolate state. Even first thing in the morning, Bokuto managed to make his uniform look slightly disreputable. At this hour, the look was beyond hope: shirt untucked, tie loose and rumpled. Now that it was just the two of them, Akaashi could get away with a lot more looking… He’d seen Bokuto shirtless often enough in the changing room but he always studiously avoided looking at him. But what glimpses he gathered had been enough to engrave in his mind the thick muscles of his arms and his broad shoulders. Now, the rolled-up shirt sleeves let him focus on his forearms and he idly thought of putting his hands there and smoothing his palms on his skin. He admired how his biceps filled the sleeves of his shirt, the slope of his shoulders… But his weakness was Bokuto’s back. Even with a shirt on, the way his broad shoulders tapered to narrow hips was enough to distract him. But when the shirt came off, when he carefully glanced at the muscle rolling under Bokuto’s skin as he pulled his jersey over his head… Let's just say tried not to look when that happened because it was inhumanely difficult to pretend it didn't affect him. 

“So where are your parents?” he asked, munching happily on the food Akaashi provided.

“My dad’s at work. He works late a lot,” answered Akaashi evenly.

‘What does he do?”

“He's in the military.” 

“Whoa! Really?” exclaimed Bokuto. “Is he a general? Does he drive a tank?” he asked, excited like a child.

“Calm down Bokuto-san,” Akaashi could see his captain getting hyped but there really was no reason to. “He's a major-general and no, he doesn't drive a tank, he drives a desk. He’s at the office 6 days a week taking care of paperwork and when he works late, which is often, he doesn't even bother coming home but crashes in a hotel near his office for a few hours,” he explained, trying to temper Bokuto’s excitement.

“Oh, wow. What about your mom?” the captain asked. “What does she do? Lemme guess, does she fly airplanes?” He asked, trying to be funny.

“She's…” surprisingly, Akaashi didn't have a lot of experience discussing this with others. It just never came up in casual conversations and Akaashi, by his reserved nature, had very few conversations that were _not_ casual. So he hesitated for a while, trying to find his words. In the end, he decided to give a straight-forward answer: “My mom died when I was 7 years old.”

Bokuto sat in stunned silence for a few seconds. “Oh, man. I'm sorry... I'm _so_ sorry,” he finally said, regret and shame clearly painted on his face. 

“It's okay, you couldn't have known,” Akaashi tried to reassure him. “It's been a long time now, 9 years already,” he added. “It’s not like it's a recent thing. I… I don't remember her much…” he finished with his eyes down.

“Oh. But just so you know, I’m really, really sorry,” said Bokuto, his eyes shining with sincerity.

“I understand, Bokuto-san. Thank you.’

“So, no brothers or sisters either?” Bokuto bravely continued.

“No.” Akaashi was glad for it, it was better to keep talking rather than tiptoeing around the subject as if it was something to be ashamed of. 

“Damn… I have two older sisters and a whole troop of uncles and aunts and cousins… there is always someone at home, visiting or staying or whatever… It’s always busy.”

“Must be fun,” answered Akaashi. If Bokuto’s family was anything like the captain himself, any gathering would certainly resemble a party.

“Are you kidding? No, it’s terrible!” exclaimed Bokuto. “It’s noisy and confusing and you never know what’s next. I envy you,” he added, taking a bite of his food.

Akaashi didn’t know what to say to that. He knew the captain wasn’t referring to the fact that he lived practically alone, without a mother and only a constantly absent father, but rather talking about the absence of disruptions. But it surprised him that someone might find even this aspect of his life enviable. 

Clearly misunderstanding his silence, Bokuto backpedaled with a look of panic in his eyes. “Wait… I’m sorry. Akaashi, I’m such a dumbass, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I only meant about the quiet…”

Akaashi still had nothing to say, the conversation having taken a turn he did not expect. 

“You know what? I’m just going to shut up now before I say something stupid again and you decide to punch me in the face and throw me out.” Bokuto mimicked zipping up his mouth.

Akaashi couldn't help but laugh at that. “It’s okay Bokuto-san. But if you ever need the quiet, you’re always welcome to come study here.”

“Yeah?” Bokuto asked with a shy smile that Akaashi found irresistible.

“Yeah.” 

\----

 **Bo** : Hey Kuroooo….

 **Kuroo** : wassup owl-man?

 **Bo** : I’m fucked…

 **Kuroo** : what happened?

 **Bo** : I’ve got a new setter…

 **Kuroo** : What’s the matter? Is he bad? Just bench him

 **Bo** : nooooo… hes all right. Hes good

 **Kuroo** : so? What’s the problem? Bad attitude?

 **Bo:** no, hes actually pretty amazing…

 **Kuroo** : uh-oh…

 **Bo** : yeah… uh-oh

 **Kuroo** : I’m guessing you haven't told him anything?

 **Bo** : duh. I dont even know if he likes guys… He's so hard to read!

 **Kuroo** : You are doomed my friend…

 **Bo** : i knooooowwww…… the other day I went to his house to study and made a complete fool of myself

 **Kuroo** : well, you were going to do that anyways, sooner or later. At least that’s out of the way now

 **Bo** : it’s no joke kuroo…. He’s gorgeous…. And smart! And we work really well together… what do i do??

 **Kuroo** : well, if you want him to like you, being yourself is clearly not the way to go…

 **Bo** : ...

 **Kuroo** : ok ok. Just… get to know him better I guess… 

**Bo** : yeah...

 **Kuroo** : and if he’s as smart as you say, he’ll see you're a great guy and you just _seem_ like a total disaster.

 **Bo** : Youre a terrible friend kurpoo. Kuroo. Thank you i guess

 **Kuroo** : we’re playing in two weeks. Guess I'll get to meet him?

 **Bo** : yup. We’ll kick your ass!

 **Kuroo** : keep dreaming owl-boy

\----

Things got more complicated for Akaashi from that point on. After successfully completing the remedial exam and avoiding suspension, Bokuto took him up on his offer of studying together regularly. He would also turn up to have lunch with Akaashi in his classroom or outside, even though he was a second-year and Akaashi was only a first-year. And they often stayed in the gym for extra practice, honing their skills together. 

As they became friendlier, Bokuto’s tactile nature only became more pronounced. Having his captain’s arm around his neck was a daily occurrence by now. But now he’d think nothing of flopping next to Akaashi with his head in his lap as they sat in the grass outside or leaning against him as they sat in the gym side by side. Akaashi would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying this but it was becoming harder to keep up his neutral front. There were times when he just ached to reach out and respond to Bokuto’s touch. When he had his head in Akaashi’s lap, discussing something volleyball related or sometimes, rarely, eyes closed and dozing off, Akaashi had to fist his fingers in the grass or stuff them deep in his pockets to avoid running them through Bokuto’s hair… it would have been so easy, the most natural thing in the world. But it wasn’t allowed so Akaashi kept his hands to himself and only sometimes when he was in his bed at night, he would think about those moments and let his sleepy imagination take over, and picture himself doing the things he had refrained from in his waking hours. 

Akaashi played his first official match a few days later. Daiki played the first and second set and the coach decided to give him his chance during the decisive last set. During the match, he finally saw what made Bokuto’s such a great captain. While he was on the court, Bokuto gave every play his 100%, and watching him, he could see how he used this energy to drive others to surpass themselves, to match him, and support him. Yes, Bokuto was a star, but he did not shine at the expense of others. He was a star _because_ of his whole team and he knew it and he made sure they knew that too. 

When the ball hit the court on the other side of the net, when the referee's whistle signaled the end of the game, Akaashi turned to Bokuto and saw his golden bird of prey eyes already trained on him. With a blazing look of joy, he ran up to Akaashi and threw both his arms around him for a fierce hug. He pulled back, grabbed him by the neck, and said: “We did Akaashi! We did it!” He then went around the court, high-fiving the other players. Akaashi stood by the net and the dryness in his throat had nothing to do with the game and everything to do with the way Bokuto’s face had been mere centimeters from his, and the way his golden eyes had looked directly into his. He closed his eyes and willed himself back under control. When he opened his eyes again, Bokuto was laughing and chatting with the girls on the cheer squad. They were all giggling furiously and competing for Bokuto’s attention while he did his best to show off for them. Akaashi frowned and looked away. 

\----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: a game against Nekoma and Akaashi's birthday...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry xmas all. here's hoping that this chapter counts among the good things in your day!

The next game they played was against Nekoma, a long-time rival team. Akaashi was looking forward to playing this team he had heard so much about. Bokuto knew them well and even seemed to be friends with Kuroo, the team captain. They were indeed quite a pair, both loud and exuberant in their friendliness. There was much hands clapping on backs, as if they were trying to dislodge internal organs, when they met before the match.

But when it came to playing, Akaashi was immediately aware that Nekoma was a hard team to beat. He started the game on the bench, watching and learning. He saw how Kuroo was able to block Bokuto’s spikes despite Daiki’s best efforts. He also spent time analyzing Nekoma’s setter. He had missed him during informal introductions when they arrived as the diminutive player seemed to hide behind his teammates. Once the match started, Akaashi was intrigued by his overall behavior: some players could barely contain their excitement, even seeming borderline aggressive, especially their ace. But the setter just stood there on the court almost as if he had wandered in by accident. But it only took a few plays for Akaashi to realize he was a formidable setter, not because of his athletic abilities but because of his keen eye for the game. Akaashi could see how his gaze was constantly flicking all around the court, watching teammates and opponents with equal intensity. The fact that he often hid behind his hair made him even harder to gauge. 

When they lost their first set, the coach subbed him in and he went to work, trying to put Bokuto’s abilities to full use. Thankfully, being blocked by Kuroo seemed only to fire him up more and Akaashi didn't have to worry about dealing with a dejected Bokuto. They narrowly won the second set and headed into the third with good hopes. But the third set was not going as planned. Kuroo kept blocking Bokuto’s cross-spikes with unerring precision and then Kenma turned the pressure up by setting up a remarkable series of quicks, just to nail it with a setter dump at the critical moment.

Akaashi had never seen Bokuto so cheerful despite the loss. He kept watching the captain as he talked to Kuroo after the game. The two of them seemed even closer than he had realized, conferring quietly on the sidelines as the teams gathered up their belongings. He watched as something that Nekoma’s captain had said made Bokuto blush while the other boy laughed. He then looked quickly over his shoulder, as if checking if they were being watched, and smacked Bokuto on the ass, making him blush even further and bat his arm away, looking guilty. Akaashi’s eyebrows drew down in consternation. Were these two even closer than he realized? At that point, their manager hurried over to say that they needed to be on the bus as soon as possible for their trip back across town. Akaashi looked quickly around, noticing Kenma’s eyes on him. He nodded a little salute to the setter and bent down to pick up his bag. He heard the two captains promising to text each-other later tonight. His frown deepened further.

On the bus, Bokuto fell asleep almost immediately. Akaashi thoughts went back to the match. There was much to learn from a setter like Kenma. He turned to coach Yamiji and asked if he could send him the video of the game. Once back home, he cued the recording on his laptop and went to work. He skipped back and forth through the recording and soon it became clear to him that Kenma had prepared throughout the first two sets the devastating attacks that had cost them the match. He had read their blockers like a book and made short work of fooling them into a false sense of complacency until he defeated them with a succession of fast attacks.

There was much to learn there. He replayed bits of the match, again and again, watching how the setter prepared his moves without any excessive motions, his body moving with graceful economy. No wonder he caught them unprepared so often. He took out a notebook and started making detailed notes of what he saw and what he’d like to work on. Back to the video, he watched again how Kenma set with a minimum waste of energy. It really was impressive. What he took at first to be laziness was in fact a strength. He skipped through some more, and stopped on a frame showing Kuroo at the net, hands extended in a block and a crooked smirk on his face, eyes on Bokuto on the other side of the net. In the still frame, the ace is at the peak of his jump, body arched back with the energy ready to be channeled into the smash, one hand raised ahead of him, the other preparing to hit. Akaashi put his notebook away and rested his chin on his knees, looking at the picture. This, right there was the essence of Bokuto: a powerful, seemingly unstoppable attack. He looked at Kuroo, a sly grin on his face. He wondered at the closeness he witnessed between the two captains. It’s true that they seem to have known each other for a while, that they appear to be friends. Perhaps even close friends… or… it shouldn't matter Akaashi thinks to himself. His infatuation with the captain didn’t matter, he had already decided this was something he would not act on, something he would keep to himself. Bokuto’s relationship with the other captain was none of his business and Akaashhi would not jeopardize his place on the team over this. 

\---

 **Bo** : sorry didnt get to talk after the game, the bus driver had a stick up his ass and we couldnt stay…

 **Kuroo** : no problem captain. I’ll just save my post-asskicking gloating for next time.

 **Bo** : whatever. It was a close game anyways, hardly an ass-kicking

 **Bo** : so, what did you think?

 **Kuroo** : that your spiking skills are terribly overrated?

 **Bo** : kurooooooo……

 **Kuroo** : oh, you mean about your crush?

 **Bo** : yeah. But dont call him that. It seems reductive. 

**Kuroo** : You were right

 **Bo** : That hes gorgeous? I knooooow….

 **Kuroo** : No. That he's hard to read

 **Bo** : right?

 **Kuroo** : Makes him a good setter

 **Bo** : Already knew that… something more helpful?

 **Kuroo** : You two work well together

 **Bo** : Also not news. Kuroo, do you think i have a chance with him?

 **Kuro** : How should I know? I’m not a fortune teller

 **Bo** : Maybe i should go see one?

 **Kuroo** : Dont

 **Bo** : So who am i going to ask for advice? Since you are obviously useless…

 **Kuroo** : Once again…. Have you considered talking to him?

 **Bo** : you know I cant!

 **Kuroo** : well, fwiw, his eyes were on you all the time, on the court and off

 **Bo** : really??????

 **Kuroo** : yes, really. Kenma said so. He also said that your setter really didn't like it when I slapped your ass after the game. 

**Bo** : huh…

 **Kuroo** : talk to him, ace

 **Bo** : I’ll think about it

\---

More games followed, Akaashi getting more and more time as starting setter. He was learning to work with Bokuto not only when he was on top form but also when they were doing poorly. He learned to deal with Bokuto’s slumps, to know when to keep setting for him until he forced him out of his funk, and when to cast a discreet look at the coach, asking him to swap the captain out and let him cool his head. He learned to work with the whole team and they all saw how good he was at reading the captain and would take their cues from him when it came to caring for their ace. In the end, their season was successful and as expected, they would be heading for the nationals just after new years. 

But with the beginning of December came Akaashi’s birthday. He’d seen the team members celebrating each other’s birthdays during the year. He happily joined in the general ruckus in the club room, bringing snacks and hanging out with them but if they ever planned any outing or celebration together afterward, he always excused himself. He was the youngest member of the club and still felt like an outsider when it came to socializing with them. After the first time or two, they always extended an invitation but never insisted when he declined. 

Now Akaashi’s birthday approached and frankly, he didn't expect the team to mark the occasion. They were teammates but they were not friendly like that. Besides, Akaashi didn't like being the center of attention and was hoping that his teammates wouldn't feel obliged to do for him what they did among themselves. As he entered the club room before practice he saw that no preparations were apparent and he was relieved that he would have to stand there and blush and feel awkward while they cheered and sang happy birthday. Still, there was a tiny grain of disappointment in his chest that he couldn't quite explain to himself. He didn't want this so why would he be disappointed to have his wish?...

Practice was going well and coach Yamiji dismissed them all a little earlier than usual, saying that the cold of December didn't agree with him. They all thanked him, happy for a little extra freedom. It was the first cold snap of December and indeed, the air felt heavy with the promise of snow. They filed out of the gym to change and go home, Akaashi staying behind, as usual, to pick up. When he made it to the clubroom, only Bokuto and Konoha remained, chatting quietly. Akaashi felt that strange pinch of disappointment in his chest again. He heard Konoha say goodbye and leave the room. He opened his locker to change, wondering again why he felt so let down, when a couple of colorful items tumbled down into his hands. One was a small package in bright wrapping paper and the other was an envelope. Akaashi blinked and stared at the objects, his feelings changing directions so fast he had trouble keeping up. His earlier disappointment and irritation were replaced by a strange warmth spreading through his chest. Then a wave of disbelief: was this really meant for him? But there was his name, neatly lettered on the envelope… he ran his fingers across the paper, still a little stunned. 

“Hey…” Akaashi’s head snapped around at the sound. He had lost track of where he was… forgot that Bokuto was still there. He was standing by the door, a hand rubbing at his neck, looking a little uncertain. “I hope it’s okay…” he added as Akaashi just stared at him. “I figured you’re not much for big celebrations so I convinced the guys to scale it down… But they wanted to wish you a happy birthday anyway so there’s… this,” he pointed at the envelope. Akaashi blinked and swallowed thickly. His eyes felt strangely prickly. “Hey, you okay…?” asked Bokuto, looking worried. When Akaashi nodded, he pointed to the envelope again. “Go on, open it.”

Trying to hide his shaking hands Akaashi eased the flap on the envelope and took out a card with a sleepy-looking owl wearing a party hat. His mouth quirked into a smile at the sight. He carefully opened the card and looked at all the scribbled well wishes, encouragements, and crookedly drawn smiley faces. Every single team member had signed it, even the team manager, all of them adding thoughtful or funny personal notes. That thick feeling was back in his throat… He carefully read each note, turning the card around for what seemed like ages. He looked up to see Bokuto watching him. Once again he seemed to have forgotten where he was. He opened his mouth but his voice seemed to be stuck somewhere behind the lump in his throat… “Thank you,” he finally managed. 

Bokuto smiled a bright, honest smile that did nothing for Akaashi’s composure. “Ah, it’s nothing…” He walked up to Akaashi and pointed to the package that was still in his hands. “This one’s from me,” he added, looking sheepish again. Akaashi was intrigued. He turned the package in his hands wondering what the captain could possibly give him. “Sorry about the wrapping paper… We only had baby-themed stuff at home because of my sister’s baby….” he added. Akaashi peeled the paper off and opened the box. Inside was a pair of gloves, plain and sturdy. He looked at Bokuto. His head was completely empty. He had no idea how he felt. “I noticed you didn't wear gloves but it’s getting cold, and you should look after yourself, you know… Go on, try them. I know your hands are narrower than mine but you have longer fingers so I tried to make sure they would fit…” Bokuto’s rambling explanations were not registering yet. He took the gloves out of the box and pulled one onto his hand. It fit perfectly. He looked up at Bokuto again and lifted his hand. “All right! Okay…” Bokuto smiled brightly again. 

Akaashi’s brain was rebooting slowly and after another few seconds his good manners kicked in. “Thank you Bokuo-san. That’s very… kind of you,” he smiled a little polite smile. The world still seemed a little out of focus. 

Bokuto still seemed a little uncertain but he pressed on. “Okay! Let's get ready! We're going out tonight!” he exclaimed brightly.

“What? No… you don't have to Bokuto-san, it’s no big deal,” said Akaashi. “I… I don't really do birthdays....” he added.

“No way, it's your special day, we gotta celebrate!” Bokuto insisted.

“No. We don't. I’m not a child. I haven't had a birthday in like, 8 years!” Akaashi tried to explain.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” said Bokuto in a quiet voice. Then he smiled one of his big grins, pointed a finger at Akaashi, and said in a tone that brooked no argument: “We’re going out!”

Akaashi smiled a little despite himself. The warm feeling that had been floating around his chest bloomed a little brighter and he decided to go along with it. “Okay, Bokuto-san.”

They took the train to Midtown as the early December night descended on the city. By the time they got to their destination, the sky was dark and the trees in the park were wrapped in millions of sparkling lights, stretching along the paths like glittering tunnels. They walked across the park, Bokuto looking at the illuminations with a childish wonder in his eyes. 

“Wow, I’ve never been here before,” said Akaashi. 

“Me neither,” replied Bokuto. “I asked my sister about a good place for... “ his voice seemed to falter a bit and he finished: “for this time of year.”

Bokuto led them through the park to a skating rink. They stood by the boards and watched the skaters for a while. “Do you know how to skate?” asked Bokuto

“No, not at all,”

“Me neither. Let's give it a try!”

“Are you sure Bokuto-san?...”

“Yeah! How hard can it be? Come on, Akaashi, time for some birthday fun!”

They rented skates and stepped onto the ice. Akaashi took a moment to get used to the feel of the skates under his feet and pushed off tentatively, keeping one hand on the railing. He wobbled a bit but quickly found his balance and pushed ahead with some confidence. He looked around to see how Bokuto was faring. The captain stood on the ice, swaying uncertainly back and forth, arms stretched out on either side of him. He looked over at Akaashi and pushed off with more aplomb than his stance warranted. His arms windmilled madly and he quickly toppled backward. Alarmed, Akaashi skated back to him and extended his hand clad in his new gloves. Bokuto looked up to him from where he was sitting on the ice and grabbed his hand with one of his own. He was wearing thick woolen mittens that seemed a little childish to Akaashi. He pulled the captain up. “Bokuto-san, please be careful! You can’t go to the nationals with your leg in a cast!” 

“It’s not my leg that’s the problem…” answered Bokuto, rubbing his backside and wincing.

Akaashi looked at him in alarm and when Bokuto smiled a wide sheepish smile, he could not help but respond with a smile of his own. It was easy to relax around Bokuto. He was funny and genuine and such an endearing mix of boastful and uncertain.

“Ugh, are you one of those people that are freakishly good at everything they try?” asked Bokuto, watching Akaashi skate. He tried to imitate him again but after another alarming wobble, Akaashi stopped next to him and extended his arm again.

“Here, hold on to me Bokuto-san, you’re making me nervous.” Bokuto gladly took hold of his arm and after a few moments grew confident enough to let go. They started to circle the rink and Bokuto kept a running commentary of his skill and attempts at turning. Akaashi smiled and occasionally laughed because there was no way to keep a straight face around Bokuto when he was in this mood. He even let Bolkuto challenge him to try some more difficult moves and laughed at his failure when he nearly toppled over, Bokuto catching him at the last moment. He didn't notice that when he laughed like that, warm and relaxed, Bokuto looked at him just as he had looked at the light-wrapped trees: wide-eyed with wonder. After a few more turns around the rink, they returned their skates and made their way to the food stalls located on the edge of the park. They bought some yakitori and walked over to an elevated path overlooking the park where they found a bench to sit down on. They ate, looking down at the skaters and chatting quietly.

“I’m glad you decided to try out for volleyball,” said Bokuto. When Akaashi gave him an inquiring look he continued. “You’re definitely the kind of person that’s really good at whatever they try. Lucky for me, you didn't try out for baseball. Or figure skating,” he joked.

“Or calligraphy,” added Akaashi, deadpan.

“Or the chess club,” laughed Bokuto.

“I thought about joining the chess club…” said Akaashi quietly.

Bokuto was about to laugh, but he looked over at Akaashi and the smile died on his lips. 

“My mom used to play chess with me… before…” Akaashi’s voice trailed off

“Really?” Bokuto asked, bumping their shoulders together as an encouragement to keep Akaashi talking.

“Yeah… I think she was really good at it. I don’t remember really... She was really smart; she taught mathematics at Tokyo University. ”

“I’m not surprised,” said Bokuto.

Akaashi gave him a curious look.

“You’re a good setter. That's a position for smart players. You need to have skill, and good reflexes, sure. But most important is game sense. Understanding how the game is flowing, understanding your opponent… Some people are instinctive setters but the best ones are the analytical ones, the ones that can think through a dozen possibilities in a fraction of a second and make the right choice and then act on it. That’s you,” Bokuto added without looking at him.

“I’m glad I tried out for volleyball too,” answered Akaashi. “I like being part of the team. I like…” his voice trailed off. “volleyball. I like volleyball,” he ended lamely.

\----

 **Bo** : Kurooooooooo….. I’m going to die

 **Kuroo** : yes, and tragically young too, if you keep texting me at 2 am

 **Bo** : kuroooooo……

 **Kuroo** : *sigh* what happened?

 **Bo** : we went out on a date…

 **Kuroo** : that’s... good?

 **Bo** : it was really nice tbh … but no… thats not goo

 **Bo** : good

 **Kuroo** : If you decide that at some point you’re going to start making sense, feel free to contact me during business hours 

**Kuroo** : bye

 **Bo** : wait….

 **Bo** : i didnt actually *tell him* it was a date…

 **Kuroo** : wtf bro?! How…. why????

 **Bo** : ...

 **Kuroo** : Explain. Now. 

**Bo** : it was his birthday and I know he didnt want a big celebration so just the two of us, we went down to the park in Midtown and skated and ate and talked. That’s a date, right? 

**Bo** : except i didnt say it was a date, i said it was only to celebrate his birthday so…. It’s NOT a date!

 **Bo** : except that we held hands… kinda

 **Bo** : but it was only because i kept falling

 **Bo** : I’m a disaster

 **Bo** : Kuroo, he’s amazing. His eyes… you saw his eyes, right? And when he laughs I could just die right there 

**Bo** : kuroo….

 **Bo** : r u asleep?

 **Kuroo** : no...

 **Bo** : say something…

 **Kuroo** : you need to talk to him, you know that?

 **Bo** : yeah…

 **Bo** : but i don't think i can

 **Kuroo** : You’re beyond hope buddy

 **Bo** : ...

 **Kuroo** : OK, go jerk off or something. All this sexual tension is unhealthy. And I gotta get my beauty sleep

 **Bo** : pfff…. Beauty sleep…

 **Kuroo** : meaning?

 **Bo** : dude, if you didnt sleep with a pillow over your head, the sun would be afraid to rise

 **Kuroo** : that’s harsh, owl-boy… feel free to lose my number

 **Bo** : good night Kuroo-san.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. Bokuto asked his sister to recommend a good spot for a date....  
> \----  
> I wish i could draw... i have this image of Bo trying to skate and it's stuck in my head and i have no way of getting it out...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long... but for your patience, there are two chapters and the story ends.

The end of December rolled around and with it came Akaashi’s favorite holiday. His father always took a little time off so they could spend their new year together. Akaashi enjoyed the quiet time with his father, sharing their favorite dishes and watching TV together. Early on new year’s day they would make their way to a shrine and return home for some more quiet time. This was their usual, unhurried way. But this year, Akaashi was surprised that he found the quiet a little jarring and missed the presence of his friends and teammates. 

Falling asleep, the echo of shoes squeaking on polished hardwood floors, the smack of hands against the ball, the shrill sound of the referee’s whistle echoed in his head. That night, strange dreams made him toss and turn. The sound of the whistle became the shrill call of a bird as he walked through a corridor that was in fact a dark forest. He saw Bokuto swooping in for a spike, his golden eyes gleaming. He landed gracefully in front of Akaashi and raised his hand. Akaashi put the palm of his hand against the captain’s, pressing against his broad palm and strong fingers. He looked up to see golden irises gazing into his own and a knowing smile curving his lips. A sudden rush of wind blew leaves against his face and Akaashi found himself lifted up, until he was soaring in a flutter of leaves and gray feathers, high above a forest full of luminous trees. When Akaashi woke, he remembered none of it. He was only left with a feeling of untethered longing, not knowing what he missed or why he felt so bereft.

It was a relief to return to his normal routine, if only for a few days. Spring tournament was due to begin shortly and Akaashi prepared with the rest of the team. Coach Yamiji had them dial down the intensity in practice lest they injure themselves but they spent more time poring over notes and rosters, trying to plan their strategy around each opponent they were likely to face. Akaashi’s green notebook turned out to be a mine of useful information for the team. Not only had he compiled notes on every team they had played but he researched those they didn't but were likely to be facing off against. They spent a lot of time reviewing the plays, watching videos, and going through Akaashi’s notes. Coach Yamiji watched them with a smile, keeping them on track and reminding them of the big picture. “Remember that you cannot plan for everything,” he would admonish. “Focus on the global strengths and weaknesses of the teams, not their individual plays.”

The tournament was a whirlwind of emotions, even before the start. Before the opening ceremonies, over 40 teams from all over the country were milling around the stadium entrance, greeting friends, sizing up opponents. Walking onto the court with his team, lining up among the rows and rows of multicolored jerseys, knowing he was standing among some of the best teams in the country made Akaashi grateful for the chances and choices that brought him there. 

Coach Yamiji had him play some of the preliminary round matches but as they progressed, he put Daiki and the other third years on the court more often, subbing Akaashi in only enough to keep the older setter from over-tiring himself. Akaashi thought it was only right that the older players could make their last appearance at the tournament as their own. He was happy to play when he could and content to look on as the games progressed, refining the strategies he had already put together. Bokuto played every match. Whether he was on the court or on the bench, Akaashi watched him, continuously keeping track of his moods and adjusting his and the team’s responses to keep their ace at his peak. Of course, there were ups and downs, but overall the strategy worked, and after every slump, Bokuto returned with renewed determination. 

In the end, they made it to the top. Akaashi played only a few minutes in the last match and was on the bench when the winning point sealed their victory. When the spike made contact with the floor, in the split second of calm before the stadium erupted in a roar, his eyes were on Bokuto and he saw the other boy look straight at him. ‘Did you see that?’ he seemed to be asking and Akaashi nodded and smiled. “I saw it, ace,” he mouthed in his direction. He joined his teammates on the court and even though he tried to stay on the outskirts of the celebratory vortex that gathered around Bokuto, he felt himself being drawn in, not only by Bokuto’s pull but also by all his teammates making a space for him, bringing him into the celebration, embracing him, folding him into this group where he belonged. 

\---

As the season concluded, the two third-years retired from the club, the training schedule dwindled down to a minimum and everyone tried to cram as much as possible as the preparations for exams and graduations began. Days that had been filled with volleyball, competition, and teamwork were now replaced by the drudgery of revisions and mind-numbing late-night cram sessions. 

One such day, when Akaashi and Bokuto had spent several hours with their books and notes, when their brains felt wrung-out and numb, when the only change was the sun drifting across the sky outside the window, Bokuto grabbed his notebook and tossed it over his shoulder without looking. He dropped his forehead onto the table with a loud thunk and sighed: “I’m done. I’m so done. That’s it. I quit. I’m going to live on a farm with my great-aunt and raise chickens. Or whatever.” He tilted his head to sneak a look at Akaashi, who would usually just continue working or maybe remind him to keep focused. But today, Akaashi’s hair was mussed from the number of times he ran his fingers through it and his eyes had dark circles under them. Akaashi looked back at Bokuto, at his notebook spread on the floor behind him, and all of a sudden Bokuto was childishly afraid that Akaashi would scold him. But Akaashi looked on for another instant and then gathered a stack of his own meticulous, color-coded notes and tossed them high into the air. They both watched the pages flutter throughout the room and settled around them like oversized blossoms. Bokuto blinked and stared at Akaashi, not sure what to think. “You’re gonna have a hell of a time putting them back in order,” he said hesitantly. Akaashi rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “S’okay, they’re all numbered,” he said in a muffled voice. “Just in case,” he added.

“In case of what?” Bokuto asked. “Hurricanes?”

Akaashi snorted and then laughter bubbled up to the surface. Unstoppable, near-hysterical laughter showed just how exhausted and drained he really was. Bokuto couldn't help joining in. They both leaned back on the floor and laughed stupidly, helplessly, until tears were running down their cheeks until they forgot what they were laughing about. 

It took several attempts but they finally exhausted themselves into quietness. They were laying on the floor, looking at each other, their breathing still a little fast. Bokuto’s eyes were roaming Akaashi’s face, taking in the vulnerable look that tiredness gave him, the slight curl of his lips, the distracting disarray of his softly curling hair. 

Akaashi looked back into the liquid amber of Bokuto’s eyes, tears of laughter still clinging to his eyelashes. Bokuto was not one to hide his emotions, every thought clearly written in this open, eager face. But Akaashi had trouble understanding the look he could see there now. If he didn't know any better, he would have called it longing. Gods, they were both so tired. It was no use. He was just projecting his own feelings. “I can't keep doing this,” he said quietly, looking away.

“You’re right,” said Bokuto, pulling out his phone. “We need a break or we’re going to fry.” Akaashi ran his hands across his face and got up to use the bathroom. When he got back, Bokuto was getting up and putting his phone away. “C’mon. Get your jacket,” he said. “Let’s go get some dinner.”

“I’d rather not. I have food here and I really should keep studying.”

“Oh, no. Not today. I just texted mom and she wants me to bring you over. She’s not taking no for an answer,” he added.

“Wait, what? No, I can't... I don't want to impose,” Akaashi answered.

“You’re not imposing. She’s been asking me to invite you since forever. You’re doing me a favor.”

Akaashi nervously agreed but insisted they stop at a convenience store on the way so he could get Bokuto’s mom a little gift. They walked up the three flights of stairs and Akaashi stood to the side as Bokuto opened the door and called out “I’m hooome!” He followed his friend in and stood hesitantly to the side. He could hear the TV chattering from somewhere inside, the radio crooning softly in another part of the apartment. Golden light filled the corridor and smells of cooking and home enveloped him. Answering Bokuto’s call, a short woman came down the hall to greet them, smiling warmly at both of them. Bokuto toed off his shoes and stepped in, wrapping an arm around his mother and leaning down to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Mom, this is Akaashi. What’s for dinner?” he turned around and made for the kitchen to check for himself. Akaashi bowed to the woman smiling down at him. “Pardon the intrusion,” he said and extended the gift they had picked up on the way. “It’s not much but…”

“Oh, thank you, sweetie!” Bokuto’s mom exclaimed, taking the gift. “Come in, come in! Hiroshiiiii! Get over here and say hi to Kou’s friend!” This last part was directed over her shoulder, to where the sounds of TV were coming from. 

Akaashi took off his shoes and stepped gingerly into the hallway, bowing again to the woman. He noticed that her eyes were the same liquid gold as her son’s but were framed by crinkly laugh lines at the corners. She beamed a wide smile at him and, just as easily as her son, put her arm around a very startled Akaashi, hugging him. “Oh, aren’t you just the sweetest boy!” she exclaimed, reaching up to gently pinch his cheek. 

“Yuko, stop, you’re smothering him! Let the poor boy breathe!” a warm baritone voice sounded from behind Akaashi. Once he was released from the hug, he turned around to see a man with gray hair and broad shoulders. Although taller than his wife, he was still shorter than his son. 

“Nice to meet you, sir,” said Akaashi, 

“Nice to meet you too. We’ve heard a lot about you! It’s good to finally meet the person who’s the reason Kou has been doing so well lately,” Bokuto-san answered genially.

“Oh no, sir. I’m pretty sure his good results are his own doing. I can certainly take no credit for his hard work. But I suppose it has been convenient for us to study together and I’m glad it was helpful,” Akaashi stammered a bit at the praise.

“Oh, son, you’ve been so much more than a convenient study partner,” smiled Bokuto-san.

Akaashi didn't know how to answer that so he remained silent. 

Sitting at the table, Akaashi listened to the criss-cross conversations, constantly bouncing from one person to the other and from one subject to the next, without sense or logic. He looked wide-eyed as Bokuto’s mom mercilessly teased her husband while his good-natured grumbles were completely belied by his soft smile.

“Oh god, don't mind them, they don't get out much,” muttered Bokuto quite loudly, only to be playfully smacked up the head by his mother in retaliation, making him laugh happily. Strange emotions swirled in Akaashi’s heart. Had cancer not taken his mother, he wondered, would this have been his parents? Would his mother laugh and ask about his friends? Would his father joke? Would he huff in false annoyance that would fool no-one? Would this warm, luminous love be something he could have had every day? He dropped his eyes to his plate and focused on the food, fighting down the bitter tang of self-pity that welled up inside him. He looked up at Bokuto instead and tried to be happy that his friend had this kind of love around him. It was only fair that someone who laughed so generously and loved so easily would be surrounded by such joy and affection. 

After dinner, he sprang to his feet and insisted he and Bokuto would take care of cleaning up. It was a relief to lose himself for a few moments in a simple task, warm water running over his fingers as they washed the dishes. Soon after he made his goodbyes and headed home, thanking his hosts profusely. He went to bed feeling exhausted and fell asleep with a vague feeling of melancholy in his heart. But the next morning he woke rested and ready to tackle another day.

\---

Winter eventually melted away to a hesitant spring and everyone managed to successfully move on to the next stage. Akaashi was now a second-year student, Daiki was gone to study veterinary medicine, and Bokuto along with other members of the team began their final year of high school. After all his efforts and planning during the spring tournament, it was only natural that Akaashi was promoted to vice-captain and took on the task of organizing tryouts to recruit new members. Training resumed, soon followed by matches. 

Akaashi’s life now settled into a reliable routine, his waking hours bookended by Bokuto. Most days they would meet up for morning practice, or else he would join Bokuto on his morning run. Classes were an inevitable interruption, made bearable by the fact that as soon as the bell rang, they were sure to meet up at the gym again, oftentimes staying late to practice together. Other times, they would slowly drift along the streets, chatting idly on their way to study together at Akaashi’s or for dinner at Bokuto’s. Akaashi was content. He was happy to spend time with Bokuto, with his friend. He stopped reading too much into every touch and smile. Bokuto was a friendly person, this was his default setting, he was willing to be this friendly and open with anyone who’d let him. It made it easier. Akaashi enjoyed the proximity they shared and felt more at ease returning some of the gestures: When Bokuto inevitably threw an arm around his shoulder, he would sometimes put his arm around Bokuto’s in response. He would smile and laugh more freely with him than with anyone else. He was growing comfortable around his teammates as well, and the role of vice-captain suited him. He was content. And for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why he would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night with tears on his cheeks.

One evening they were packing up after practice, when Onaga poked his head into the clubroom and stuttered: “Oh, hey, Bokuto, um… I mean, captain… the, uh, the coach asked to see you in his office?”. He ended it like a question. Onaga was their new middle blocker and, at over 190 cm, a very intimidating one, at least on the court. In person, he was one of the shyest and most soft-spoken people Akaashi knew.

“Wait up Akaashi, I’ll go see what the old man wants, okay? It shouldn't take long” said Bokuto, heading out the door.

Akaashi nodded and finished changing. He looked around the clubroom for things to pick up but there was little for him to do. His influence on the rest of the team was starting to show, he noted and smiled to himself. He removed from the corkboard a few notices that were no longer relevant, pinned the upcoming match schedule in the center, and then sat down with his green notebook to look over some play strategies.

Only a few minutes later the door opened and Bokuto walked in, looking dazed. He had a small stack of envelopes in his hand. Akaashi looked at him, unable to decode the expression on his face. “What is it Bokuto?” he asked. 

Bokuto lifted the hand holding the envelopes, cast his eyes down at them, and then looked back up at Akaashi, his mouth slightly open, no words coming. It took him another moment before he could put a sentence together. “It’s.... letters,” he said.

Since that much was obvious without explanation, Akaashi just lifted an eyebrow and waited.

Bokuto drew in a slightly shaky breath and tried again. “It's letters from scouts… from teams… recruiters…” he looked on to Akaashi, waiting for him to help make sense of what he held in his hands. 

Akaashi walked briskly up to him and took the envelopes from Bokuto’s hand. He quickly leafed through them, his eyes snapping to the familiar logos adorning the envelopes: the Hornets, the Red Falcons, Kanagawa, Black Jackals… He quickly opened one to read through.  _ We are pleased to offer… join our practice on the following date… further discuss your commitment… _ Akaashi looked up to Bokuto, only to find his golden eyes trained on him with a fearful sort of disbelief. Akaashi felt a smile spread on his face. “Congratulations Bokuto!”

“Yes?” Bokuto’s voice was still disbelieving but his eyes were lighting up. If Akaashi was congratulating him, it meant that it was real. “Yes! It’s really happening!” Bokuto threw his arms around Akaashi, lifted him up, and spun him around. “Oh god, what do I do now?” he asked, setting Akaashi down and running a hand through his hair. 

“Let’s go home and look these over,” Akaashi put a reassuring hand on Bokuto’s forearm. It helped steady both of them as Akaashi was still a little dizzy from the hug. 

At Akaashi’s place, they settled at the coffee table with the stack of letters and a laptop. Bokuto was having trouble staying put, wanted to rush off and just  _ do  _ something but Akaashi took the stack of letters and started asking questions. The first thing they did was to order the letters by the level of interest, starting with the least desirable ones. He took out his notebook and started making a pros/cons list for each team. At first, it was easy, as most entries were in the ‘cons’ columns. Bokuto would say things like “Fukuoka is way too far” or “I’m not playing for  _ these  _ traitors,”. Akaashi chuckled and added a few ‘pros’ for every team. But even he knew that trying to be objective was only a front and the real decision would be between the bottom two envelopes. When they reached these, he opened his laptop and pulled up some games on youtube to get a better feel for the teams. 

They watched and Akaashi got a strange falling feeling in his stomach. It wasn't hard to imagine his friend on the court among the players on his screen. He had the skill and the drive. This was his passion, the only thing he ever dreamed of doing. So it should be no surprise that they were finally here, in Akaashi’s living room, deciding this. But even though he was happy and excited for his friend, the falling feeling made him realize his friend was slipping away from his life and into the one on the screen. They would no longer be Bokuto and Akaashi, setter and ace, captain and vice-captain… They would become Bokuto pro-player, and Akaashi high-school friend. Former teammate… acquaintance… He pushed the feeling away. Of course Bokuto would move on. It was his dream, this was what he worked so hard for. Akaashi certainly wouldn't be the one to hold him back. In fact, he would do everything in his power to help him, just as he has up until now. So he turned his eyes back on the screen and listened to Bokuto commenting on the plays. The idea that sometime in his future he would be there, playing among these men was starting to make itself home in his head. And although two clubs were still technically on the list, they both knew that no matter how many pros and cons they lined up for each of them, there was only one choice. Bokuto had been a fan of the Jackals for most of his life and he was not going to pass the chance to be recruited by them. He had humored Akaashi by trying to consider the teams objectively but his choice was made in his heart the moment he saw the logo on the corner of the envelope.

So they pulled up game after game, and they watched until they both dozed off. It was well past midnight when Akaashi woke up. He blinked awake in the harsh gleam from his computer screen and looked down. Kuroo slept with his head on his lap, one hand still clutching an envelope to his chest, the other holding onto Akaashi’s knee. His eyes were closed, pale eyelashes casting a shadow on his cheeks, slow breaths lifting his chest. There were no thoughts in Akaashi’s head, no conscious decision. He watched his hand lift from where it rested on Bokuto’s shoulder and slip into his hair. 

Just as he had always thought, it was soft. So soft, he thought, running his fingers deep through the hair, the pads of his fingers pressing to the scalp. Soft and thick and full of life. He pulled his hand away, letting the strands slip between his fingers. He scratched gently at the skin on his neck then slid his fingers in to comb through, again and again. He was lost in the touch, mind still blissfully blank when Bokuto’s eyelids fluttered for a moment. Akaashi’s hand froze in place. He stopped breathing and listened to his heart pounding in his chest, marking the time. A soft sigh lifted Bokuto’s chest and then he stilled again, resuming his soft breathing. Akaashi slowly pulled his hand away. Shame pooled like lead in his stomach. It was wrong. He knew he shouldn’t have done that. He would never do it again. But he still couldn't make himself regret it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta, so apologies if there are typos. it's past midnight and I've put this off for much too long. hope you like it nonetheless...


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is it! tears are shed.

“I can't believe you don't know how to tie a tie! How have you gone through three years of high school without learning this? I mean, it often looks as if your tie is trying to strangle you but it’s still tied in a credible imitation of a half-Windsor…” Akaashi was muttering half to himself while swatting Bokuto’s hand away from the potential death-trap around his neck and wrangling the length of fabric into a properly tied, well-positioned necktie it was supposed to be.

“Akaashi… I have no idea what's a half-Wilson… My sister ties all my ties at the beginning of the semester and I just slip them on…” Bokuto explained absentmindedly while tugging at the stiff collar of his dress-shirt and holding back from running his fingers through his hair like he wanted to. 

Bokuto’s hair… Akaashi had gasped when he opened his door to find Bokuto standing there, carrying his suit in a bag on a hanger. Instead of being styled into its usual spikes, his hair was parted on one side and combed back in an easy sweep that still held some volume. He’d seen Bokuto with his signature spikes every day. He’d seen him occasionally walking out of the shower with his hair slicked back or drooping messily into his eyes. But this?… it was the first time he’d seen him try this more refined look and damn, he looked  _ good _ . Gray strands mixed with black and the softer sweep of his hair made the strong lines of his jaw and the arch of his eyebrows more prominent, making Akaashi’s heart stutter. He thought he was over this infatuation but when Bokuto looked like  _ that _ , he could  _ not  _ not stare... 

“Akaashi, I’m sorry. Can I finish getting ready here? I just couldn't take my mom fussing and my sister teasing and…” standing on his doorstep Bookuto trailed off and looked at Akaashi with a slightly harrowed expression. 

“Of course, come on, go get dressed,” Akaashi let him in and nudged him towards the bedroom while he went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He drank it in long gulps, trying to will the blush off his face.

When Bokuto came out from his bedroom, all of Akaashi’s hard-gained composure went out the window. Bokuto was wearing a dark shirt and gray suit jacket and trousers. The suit was well-tailored to his frame, sitting comfortably across his shoulders and tapering down at his hips. The trousers were snug across his thighs, not hiding the muscle. A bronze-colored tie brought out his eyes with startling intensity. “Akaashi, can you give me a hand with that?” Bokuto asked, tugging helplessly at the messy attempt at a knot at his neck. 

Akaashi walked up to him, glad for the excuse to stop staring from afar. He tugged the jacket off his shoulders, propped up the collar and straightened the tie against his neck. He kept his eyes down, but it wasn’t helping much. All he could see was Bokuto’s broad chest, his pecs well defined under the fabric. Akaashi’s long fingers deftly looped the fabric while he muttered about Bokuto’s helplessness with ties. He tugged the knot in place, and ran a hand around the collar to make sure it was properly tucked in. He noticed Bokuto chewing his lip. “Are you nervous?” he asked, smoothing his hands quickly down the front of Bokuto’s shirt. It wasn't strictly necessary but he could get away with it. He handed Bokuto his jacket and stepped back.

“Yeah. I wanna make a good impression, you know?” Bokuto answered as he shrugged carefully into his jacket. “I just don't know how to do this. I’m… yeah, I’m nervous,” he admitted again.

“You have nothing to worry about, Bokuto. It’s just a meet-and-greet for new recruits and the club owners. They chose you, they want you. It’s all decided, okay?” Akaashi knew this would help. If Bokuto could remember that the decision was already made, the contract signed, he would feel less anxious about it. “All that's left is for you to show them that you’re happy to be there too. That's all you need to do tonight. Just go there, meet them, and show them. You  _ belong  _ there!” Akaashi added with more enthusiasm than he felt. 

“Okay. Thanks, Akaashi. You’re the best, you know that?” He pulled Akaashi into a quick one-armed hug. “I’m sorry I left my stuff in your room. I’ll pass by later to pick it up,” he added. 

“Don't worry about it. Later or tomorrow. I’ll be here,” Akaashi answered and was glad that Bokuto didn't notice the bitterness in his voice. He closed the door behind him and repeated these words to himself: “Yeah, I’ll be here…” He felt like a stone in the middle of a stream, standing still while the world rushed on around him. Deep down he knew it wasn't true. He had his own plans and his own ambitions but at this moment, all that felt ages away. Right now, he was standing still, being left behind while Bokuto was being swept on and away from him.

Akaashi was more and more restless as the evening wore on. He didn't expect to hear from Bokuto until much later, or more likely tomorrow, when he’d return to collect his things. Despite his attempts at keeping the bitterness at bay, he could not chase the feeling completely away. Resentful thoughts swirled in his head: “I’m just convenient. I’m a placeholder. I’m… nothing special.” In an uncharacteristic burst, he threw the book he was trying to read across the room. He watched it fall to the floor, creasing the pages. He could not bring himself to care. He got up and paced the apartment, not finding a place he wanted to be. He thought about going for a run but couldn’t muster the energy. In the end, he grabbed a jacket and went out anyway. He didn't have a plan, he let his feet carry him where they would. He stuffed his hands deep into the pockets, turned the collar up against the chill, and walked on. For a long time, he walked around, street after street, without keeping track. His head was empty but his heartfelt heavy. His whole body was weighed down by it. He told himself time and again to get over it. It didn't matter what Bokuto did, they were two different people, and being jealous of his success was pointless. Was that what it was? Jealousy? Akaashi had his own plans for success. He knew exactly where to apply for internships, what university program to strive for… He was going to get where he wanted. But now he was just a high school student stuck in the same old routines while his best friend was on the verge of making his dream come true and become a professional volleyball player. 

Eventually, he realized the surroundings were familiar once again. He was back in his neighborhood. He had no idea what time it was. He left without a watch and even without his phone. 

He turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door. He was about to enter when his eye caught the sight of a shoe peeking from behind the flower planter that stood between the neighbor's door and his. His heart thumped in recognition. All his previous thoughts were forgotten. All he wanted to do was to make things better, to lift his ace up out of whatever had him down and see him happy and shining once again. That was the only thing that mattered.

“Hey,” he said. He reached out a hand and waited until Bokuto looked up at him and took it. His stomach dropped at the look he saw in his eyes. It was not Bokuto’s typical dejection that took over when things didn't go his way, when his mind would turn a misstep into a failure and he would stop believing himself capable. Instead, what he saw was anguish and sadness and loss... 

He tugged at their linked hands. “C’mon, let’s go inside.” The hand he held in his was cold. How long had he been sitting there? What time was it? He guided Bokuto inside and to the couch while he went to the kitchen to make some tea. He put a warm mug between Bokuto’s hands. “What’s going on, Bo? Did it not go well?” he asked as he sat next to him. 

“No, it was fine… Honestly, it was great,” Bokuto ran the fingers of one hand through his hair, ruffling it up. His other hand held the tea. 

“Something happened on the way?” Akaashi enquired genty. He had once seen Bokuto slip into a blue funk for half a day because he saw someone being mean to a dog while on his way to school. 

Bokuto shook his head. “It’s nothing like that Akaashi,” he added, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s just that… I don't want this to stop,” he waved his hand around. He slouched against the cushions and looked up to the ceiling. “I wish I could stay in high school forever!” he exclaimed.

“What? No!” Akaashi couldn't help but contradict. Who in their right mind wanted to stay in high school? “Why would you want that?”

“I want to keep playing with you forever!”

“But you’ll have some of the best players in the nation to play with! Why would you get sentimental about your high school team? We’re nothing special..”

“That’s not true! Your tosses are the best Akaashi!”

“Bo, I know that new things can be scary sometimes but this is _your_ place and _your_ moment! Don't let us hold you back. There is nothing in highschool worth all this regret.”

“That’s not true Akaashi! That’s just not true…” Bokuto’s voice cracked on this last word.

“I don't understand what you mean Bo..” said Akaashi with real concern. For the first time, he was having trouble grasping what was going on. Usually, his instincts were reliable but tonight the reasons for Bokuto's anguish were like smoke, something that he couldn't grasp.

Bokuto finally put the mug down on the table and ran both hands through his hair. He looked down at the floor for a long moment and when he raised his head, he was staring at Akaashi with a desperate sort of look.

“Oh, Akaashi… You’re the smartest person I know but sometimes you can be really dense… I wish I could stay in high school forever so that I could be with you. Not the team. I mean they’re great and all but no, that’s not what I mean..” he stopped for a second and took in a deep breath. “I wish I could be with you forever Akaashi. With  _ you _ …”

Akaashi was looking straight into Bokuto’s eyes as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing but his brain made no progress whatsoever.

“Look,” Bokuto continued. “I’ve known you for almost two years now and you’re the best teammate, the best friend I ever had. You’re the most important person to me and I’m terrified that when this year is over, I’ll never see you again! I…” another deep shaky breath sent tremors through Bokuto’s chest. “I love you Akaashi and I don't want to lose you. Stay with me Akaashi… Please, don't let me go…” a tear finally spilled out of his eye and trailed down his cheek.

Akaashi’s eyes followed its path down Bokuto’s face, until it hung at the tip of his chin. He reached his hand, and ran a finger across the cheek, feeling the wetness. His brain was spinning madly, trying to rearrange all his feelings around the words he just heard. He opened his mouth, tried to say something but it was still too much to ask. His face screwed up trying to hold in tears of his own but to no avail. Looking into Bokuto’s pleading golden eyes Akaashi felt tear after tear slipping down his own cheeks. It was too much. He closed his eyes and buried his face in Bokuto’s shoulder. He felt Bokuto’s strong arms wrap around him and hold him close. It was a feeling that was safe and familiar, and completely, shockingly, different and new. Bokuto held him tight for a long moment. Then his broad hands squeezed his shoulders and pulled him gently away until Bokuto was able to look down into his eyes.

“Akaashi? I’m sorry if I’m putting so much of this on you… It’s just that I needed to say it before it was too late… You… I understand if...” But he couldn't finish the thought because it wasn’t true. He had laid his heart out in the open for the one person that he always strived to impress, the one person whose opinion he valued above all others. The one who never judged him or demeaned him, the one who never laughed at his shortcomings or tried to flatter him. He laid his heart out for Akaashi and he held his breath because the world had stopped in its tracks and would not resume its course until he heard Akaashi’s answer. 

Akaashi looked into his honest, bright, eager eyes and shook his head. These eyes could never hold a lie and if Bokuto looked at him like  _ that _ , then there was no further need to analyze his words. Akaashi knew the truth and for once he could leave logic and reason behind and just follow his heart, knowing that he was safe. So he reached out a hand and hooked it behind Bokuto’s neck. He slid his fingertips into his soft, soft hair and pulled himself in until their lips met. It was a shaky, breathless first kiss that tasted of tears and hope. He pulled away and looked again into the honey golden eyes.

“Yeah?” Bokuto breathed a smile.

“Yes... Bo, I love you and I will never let go of you if that’s what you want. “ 

This time Bokuto pulled him in with both hands cupping his face and kissed him again. 

This time it was a little less tear-filled and a lot more enthusiastic. 

Akaashi had no idea what kissing was supposed to feel like but he couldn't imagine it could be any better than this. He had his fingers tangled in Bokuto’s hair, the other boy’s arms holding him tight and his lips working gently against his own. When he felt the soft glide of a tongue against his lip, he opened to it without a second thought. For a long, long while, they went on like this because these new feelings were finally theirs, to be felt and discovered and explored.

When they pulled apart, Bokuto was looking down at him with a smile. A smile so big, so bright, it seemed too big for his face, too big for Akaashi’s heart. He felt his word tilt askew again and he smiled back because he thought he might just like it that way. 

But reality was knocking insistently at the door and finally Akaashi asked: “Bo...? in just a few weeks you’ll be moving to Osaka and I still have a year of high school and then university here in Tokyo…” His heart ached just at the thought of the next year without Bokuto always there. “How… How are we going to do this?” he asked and bit his lip to stop the tears from returning.

“I don't know’” Bokuto shook his head gently. “But as long as you love me I have no fear. We’ll figure it out. It won't be easy but it’s not  _ impossible _ ! We’ll find a way! After all, Osaka is just a couple of hours away by train!”

Akaashi couldn't resist his pure hopeful enthusiasm so he laughed and nodded. “Okay… Okay!” and he kissed him again for good measure.

\----

Next December, when Akaashi’s birthday came around, instead of offering him some money as he usually did, his father handed him a gift-wrapped box. Shooting him a surprised look, Akaashi slowly unwrapped it. He lifted the lid and his fingers shook when he saw that it contained an official Black Jackals number 12 jersey. He looked up at his father with wide questioning eyes. 

"Why don't you invite him over next time he's in Tokyo? I think I'd like to get to know this famous boyfriend of yours."

"Dad, he's not really famous…" was all Akaashi could think of replying. Tears were welling in his eyes but he didn't really care about that.

"If I can buy his jersey it's because he's famous," replied his father gruffly.

Akaashi hiccupped a wet little laugh and nodded. "Okay dad," he whispered. “Okay.” He quickly hugged his father and kissed his cheek. 

"You’re a good boy Keiji," his father ruffled his hair like he used to do it when Akaashi was younger but now he had to reach up to do it. Gods, how grown up he suddenly seemed. He was calm, reliable, and independent. Akaashi-san could not have hoped for better. He pointed to the jersey. “Now go put that away before you misplace it,” he grumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this ride. It took so long and I apologize for making you wait and thank you for your patience .as I've mentioned, there is another work coming up in a few days (it's already half-written) that will definitely rate different. keep your eyes open and thank you so much for your patience!!!!!!  
> \---  
> Please let me know if you enjoyed it... I appreciate every comment and every kudo more than you can imagine.
> 
> thanks for reading!!!!


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